


Breaking Her Down to Build Her Up

by etotheswan



Series: you've never felt more alone [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:19:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1443307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etotheswan/pseuds/etotheswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magic Lessons. Swan Queen. It's a win-win.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Her Down to Build Her Up

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said You've Never Felt More Alone was only going to be a one-shot, but whatever... 
> 
> The only explanation I can give is that I really just wanted to write magic lessons! Okay?

**Break Her Down to Build Her Up**

You’re actually not sure how Rumple trained you and never _actually_ murdered you in the process. It’s ridiculous and tedious and even though you _wholeheartedly_ believe in breaking people before you build them back up, when it comes to Emma Swan, you aren’t sure how to actually break _anything_.

She’s kneeling in the middle of the abandoned barn out in the hinterlands of Maine, miles and miles from Storybrooke. Her blond hair is a mess, her beanie ditched hours beforehand in a moment of pure frustration. She’s a lot better at magic than she gives herself credit, which is probably why she can pick it up without much effort. But she’s scared. You can smell it in her fire, in her air, in her smoke.

And fear? That is the worst thing to hold onto when you’re trying to become _better_.

She’s snappy and sassy and honestly, there’s a moment when you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to control yourself and _not_ throw a ball of fire at her the next time she snaps at you.

Clearly, the magic lessons aren’t going as well as you’d hope. She doesn’t want to go dark. And how often have you approached that in your life? Even Snow White blackened her heart.

When you start to think about it, though, you can’t blame her for not wanting to become a horrible person. In fact, it makes her even more ridiculously wonderful.

“Emma?” you ask, your voice stern. “Are you going to let me continue with the training?”

“Just… just stop talking. For five minutes. Just stop with your voice and your fire and just stop. Please. I need a fucking break.”

You take a very deep breath and let it out, making sure that she hears the frustration. “I realize you don’t want to be like _me_. You’ve made that abundantly clear. Because Gods forbid you actually love someone so much that…” Your voice trails off. No. She doesn’t deserve to know all the parts of you. Not yet anyway.

“Regina, can you please give me a minute? I’m kind of in the middle of a breakdown.”

A smile crosses your lips. Perhaps you do know how to break Emma Swan. It just isn’t the same way you imagined. “Seriously? You’re in the middle of a _breakdown_? Is that how you plan on handling Zelena? ‘I’m sorry, Zelena - _the most powerful witch this land has ever seen_ \- would you mind if we paused for a quick second so I can have a _breakdown’_? Because I can assure you, Miss Swan, that will not get us to the winners’ circle. That will only get us killed.”

You watch as she slowly turns her head and glares at you. That’s it. That’s the spark you’ve been looking for and she hasn’t been able to help you find it until right now. You smile even broader now. You know your smile angers her more than anything when it comes to these lessons. Her eyebrows lower and her lips purse and that’s when it happens.

Emma Swan disappears right in front of your eyes.

“Well, well, well,” you say out loud to, well, to her, except she isn’t there any longer. You wait patiently for her to return, looking down at your nails, badly in need of a manicure, when you hear a poof, thud, and groan. You bring your eyes up to look towards the sounds and see the mess of blond hair and red leather and you cannot help but chuckle.

“Jesus. That was freaky,” she says as she pushes herself up from the ground and gets her feet planted firmly. She starts brushing the dust off of her black jeans and sweater, coughing as it billows around her.

“If you would have waited to try that bit of magic I could have taught you how to re-enter properly. But, as always, you’re twelve steps ahead of me.” You watch Emma roll her eyes at you. If there is one thing you hate about her more than all the others, it’s that when she rolls her eyes, it does exactly the opposite that it’s supposed to do. It doesn’t infuriate you. It doesn’t make you want to toss her across the room like a rag doll. It makes your heart swell and your hands ache and a warmth washes over your body and _really_? Why have you let yourself even care about this woman to the point of letting her mannerisms affect you in _any way_ whatsoever, let alone a _good_ way? You clear your throat and flip your hair and you see the look in her eyes, how it softens. What does that mean? You aren’t sure, but you aren’t going to let yourself even think about it. Not right now. And certainly not when someone is plotting to kill you. “You realize, of course that you don’t have to become _evil_ to be great at magic?”

“No, I don’t realize that, Regina. Why do you think that I’m so afraid of all of this? The only times I’ve been able to conjure anything is when I’m pissed off. Either at you or Hook or Neal.” Her voice catches in her throat when she says Neal’s name. You know that feeling all too well and you see how her eyes fill with tears and dammit, Emma Swan, don’t you dare start crying right now. “I don’t want to always have to hold onto _anger_ and _madness_ to fucking throw someone across a room. And I don’t want to have to be scared when we confront this green bitch!” She waves her hands haphazardly around her surroundings. She motions to you. “And you. Goddammit, I don’t want to be _you_.”

It hurts. You’re not going to deny it. At least not to yourself. She doesn’t deserve to see the flash of pain that passes before your eyes, though. She sees it anyway, though and you know it, because her eyes _soften_. Little does she know that she will _never_ be like you. Because you don’t soften when you throw an insult. You stay strong, you stay firm, and you sure as hell don’t let the other person know you care. That’s when it hits you… You’ve let her see that you care. About her. You’re not as evil as you once were. And it hits her, too. “I know you think that it’s something I’m proud of. Being evil.” You glance up at her eyes, a tear has escaped down her cheek and has left a trail through the dust and grime. “But doing magic now,” you present your hand in front of her and a purple orb glows small and bright in the middle of your palm, “It’s not from a place of evil and hatred.” The orb changes, glows brighter, becomes fire and light and sparks before you close your palm around it and smile, not at her, but at the fact that your magic is not for _evil_ any longer. It’s for Henry now. “It’s from a place of love. And hope.” You see Emma open her mouth to say something, but you don’t want to hear it. Whatever she says will only hurt. Instead, you cut her off with, “Where did you transport yourself?”

“Is that really important?” Emma asks as she shoves her hands firmly into her back pockets of her jeans. There’s still dirt across her abdomen and her chest. You find yourself fighting the urge to help her out and tidy her up.

You take a few steps towards her, closing the distance that was already too close for comfort. “Yes. It matters.”

“Why? Why does it matter?”

“Because.” After pulling a deep breath into your lungs and letting it fill the space that is suddenly aching with the desire to figure out what you’re feeling for this woman, you let it seep out slowly through your nose. “It matters because you need to hold onto that feeling. In here.” You reach out, place your hand directly over her heart. The beating intensifies when your eyes lock onto hers. “You keep that feeling of home, comfort, longing, love. Hope. And whenever you need to disappear,” you pull your hand away from her heart and tear your eyes off of hers, finding the dirty ground, “you’ll be able to disappear without any effort.” You fight the urge to add that she’s entirely too good at disappearing already, because why bring it up right now?

Your eyes are locked onto her black boots and you see her turn her toes in towards each other and then dig the toe of her right boot into the ground. After she clears her throat, she says softly, “I prefer not to tell you right now. Can I just hold onto this one?”

“You never have to tell me, Emma,” you respond to her question. You turn and walk away from her, “But if the Jolly Roger is really something you want to keep a secret, then you’d better not let Zelena know about it.” A laugh bubbles from Emma’s throat and you flip around to stare at her. “What is so funny?”

“Regina, you really aren’t as perceptive as you should be considering how powerful you are. You realize that, right?”

“Oh, really? Pray tell then, Miss Swan. Everyone sees how he lusts after you. We all know it’s only a matter of time before you acquiesce to his advances.”

“Stop,” she says, her voice an octave above where it normally sits. “Stop, please. You don’t know anything about me or my feelings for that man.”

You raise an eyebrow at that statement. Yes, you do know about her. You know more than you ever thought you’d want to know about the blonde savior with the green eyes and the insanely competent swagger.

“And besides,” she starts, “Why didn’t you tell me you gave Robin Hood your heart to hold onto?”

“How did you…?”

“You’re not the only one with eyes around this town,” she says with a cocky air that you hate to admit you really like.

“Well, Miss Swan, it’s my heart. I can do what I wish with it. It’s not like anyone else was banging down my door for it. Except for Zelena, of course.” You turn around and slide your hands into the pockets of your wool pea coat. You feel your hands clench and then before you know it, she’s standing right behind you. “You should know better than to sneak up on me.” You toss the comment over your shoulder and then, as if she knew you needed this to happen, you feel her hand wrap around your bicep. She turns you around and it’s not something you were prepared for. The look in her eyes. The pleading and the tears and Gods, they’re so green and so tragic and you want to laugh because how is this happening?

She takes a breath and your eyes travel to the small scar above her right eye and then down to her mouth before she says, “You need to remember that you know nothing about him.”

“I know more than you think.”

“Like what?”

You scoff at her determined attitude. “Like the fact that years ago,” you start the sentence and then pause. “Never mind.”

“No, Regina, you’re going to finish that sentence.” Emma tilts her head and a look flashes over her face before a wind comes whipping through the barn and then calms within seconds. “And yes, I just conjured that.”

“You’re getting good,” you say, a smile gracing your lips.

“Tell me, Regina.”

“Oh, Emma, it’s not that big of a deal,” you say. “It’s just something that happened years ago. With Tinkerbell and really? It’s absolutely not something you need to worry about.”

“Is this about that god awful lion tattoo?”

Your eyes widen and you pull back a bit. “What?”

“Come on. The diner is small and I was eavesdropping. I heard you and Tinkerbell whispering about him and the tattoo and how he’s your…” she stops and pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth. Emma’s eyes finally move when she steps back, crosses her arms and sighs. “It’s not like it’s news to everyone that you and Robin have been talking.”

“We hardly _talk_. He follows me around. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Who said I was worried?”

“Emma. Stop. You clearly are worried. He’s harmless.”

“How do you know that, though, Regina?” Emma asks, her eyes grabbing onto yours again. “How do you know that he’s not going to hurt you?”

“Fairy dust.”

Emma lets out a very loud, very boisterous laugh. She bends a bit, laughing harder with each passing second. When she finally quiets down, she places her gloved hand over her mouth. “You’re joking, right?”

This time it’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I knew you’d think this was a big joke.”

“No,” Emma says, placing a hand on your arm. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. Come on. Sometimes this whole fairy tale thing still gets to me. Okay?”

“Okay,” you finally say, reluctantly. “I suppose that’s an acceptable answer.”

“Well, I hope you’re right about him.”

“Let’s just say I have a very good read on the situation,” you say before you moisten your lips and raise an eyebrow.

Emma smiles as she pushes the sleeves of her jacket up a little bit. She moves around you, towards the bottle of water she brought with her and takes a long swig of it before capping it and then offering it to you. When she hands it over, you eye it. You don’t drink after other people. Ever. What is she doing? “Come on. I don’t have cooties.”

Another eye roll from you and then you reach forward. As you do, your eyes catch something on Emma’s wrist. You instinctively grab her arm and she immediately says, “Ow! Regina, come on. What the hell?”

“What is this?” you ask, pushing her sleeve even further up to reveal a small tattoo of a flower. You’re laughing and she’s giggling and are you two having fun?

“It’s just a dumb tattoo. God. I got it in high school with a bunch of my friends. I forged my foster mom’s name on a note and paid like $30 for it. It’s not a big deal. Stop.” She pulls her hand away from you and then you look up at her. Her cheeks are filled with pink and you smile. You got Emma Swan to blush. It feels good. It feels way better than you ever imagined.

“It suits you,” you say softly.

“Why? Because it’s _dumb_?” she asks, her eyebrows raising almost to her hairline.

“No,” you laugh. “Not at all.” You wait a beat before you say, “Because it’s simple… in a really good way.”

Sometimes you really wonder how this woman got under your skin in such a strange way.

But then again, when you look at her and you remember the time you opened a portal to another land with just the touch of her hand, or the time you stopped an unstoppable force, or when you moved the heavens together…

It all makes way more sense than you even want to believe. You know it’s insane and out of the realm of possibilities. Because she’s Emma and you’re the Evil Queen and honestly, you know it would never work.

But when another pink cheek response is all you get from her before she says, “Regina, stop. I can’t handle compliments from you,” you kind of think that maybe, just maybe, you aren’t the Evil Queen to her.

“Okay, then.” You smile as you conjure a fireball and say, “Then let’s keep going so I can insult you some more.”

She smiles and smiles and smiles and inside of the deepest part of the pouch that is in Robin Hood’s keeping, you feel your heart thud with a beat it’s only ever done once before.

 


End file.
